


How to Flirt: A Story by Steve Rogers and Clark Kent (corrected by Bruce Wayne and Janet Van Dyne)

by AngeNoir



Category: Avengers Academy (Video Game), DCU
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Bad Flirting, High School, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pre-Relationship, Prom, Relationship Advice, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 14:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19021576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeNoir/pseuds/AngeNoir
Summary: Steve Rogers does not have game.Clark Kent managed to land Bruce Wayne, so hedoeshave game.So Clark Kent will help Steve Rogers land Tony Stark.(Clark did help, and he does deserve recognition for how they got together, regardless of what Bruce claims.)AKA - a series of Steve's awkward attempts to ask Tony out, as told by Clark.





	How to Flirt: A Story by Steve Rogers and Clark Kent (corrected by Bruce Wayne and Janet Van Dyne)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [[Art] How to Flirt](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19020991) by [Selofain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selofain/pseuds/Selofain). 



> DC characters are characters I'm not intimately familiar with in any way, so if they're a little ooc, I'm so sorry!
> 
> And check out the amazing art that inspired the piece by Selofain!

“I’m just—I’m just no good at it! I can’t talk to him, I can’t, I can’t even form  _ words _ , I trip over what I want to say—”

Clark ducked under another shot from one of the training robots and frowned sympathetically. It wasn’t as if Steve expected him to help—he was venting more than anything, and Clark understood the need to vent without someone trying to solve the problem—but at the same time, the complaint was familiar. He hadn’t been all that great trying to get Bruce to go out with him, and it had taken him a long time before Bruce had seemed to pick up on Clark’s hints and agree.

(For all that Bruce Wayne was extremely intelligent, and a huge flirt, he had never seemed to realize when Clark was doing his best to flirt with him. It might have been Clark’s approach, but come on. It wasn’t as if Clark could do  _ subtle _ all that well.)

“I mean, crap, I  _ literally tripped _ onto him and knocked him into the computer desk in the library—”

There was only so much pathetic that Clark could stand. Turning his back on the robots—he was Superman, it wasn’t as if they could  _ actually _ hurt him, after all; his training here was for agility only—he faced Steve’s long face. “Do you need help, Steve?” he asked cautiously.

Steve punched another robot in the face and slung his shield out, ricocheting it around the arena to knock out all the other robots. “I mean… you managed to snag Bruce, and Bruce is like… Tony’s best friend. After Loki. And Natasha. And Pepper. And Janet. And Rhodes.. Could you at least give me some hints? I don’t know what else to do.”

Clark mused it over as he ended the training simulation and walked to the exit. “Okay. Let me go back over what I did to get Bruce, and talk to some other guys. Oliver’s not that bad with the ladies, and neither is Sam or Clint. Or T’Challa, but I don’t think T’Challa likes me.”

“T’Challa doesn’t really seem to like anyone,” Steve sighed.

That wasn’t strictly true, or fair, but Clark wasn’t going to point out that T’Challa didn’t get along well with the people that hadn’t taken Tony’s side in the ‘civil war’ period the campus had when Tony and Bruce had set about trying to prove that their robots and tech were better than actual boots-on-the-ground agents that could make nuanced decisions.

In any case, T’Challa held grudges. While he might have been the best to really know what Tony liked, Clark could always ask Loki. Loki was good friends with Tony, and hadn’t seemed to particularly care about the ‘civil war’ fiasco like everyone else on campus.

Or Pepper. But Pepper didn’t like  _ anyone _ , it seemed, except Tony, and so Pepper was… a last resort. Pepper and Diana—and Natasha, and Amora—scared Clark a little. The other girls he could handle, but those four… they scared him down to his bones.

“Meet me tomorrow at the club, and we’ll go over some date ideas, some things you might be able to do to get Tony to notice you,” Clark said, instead of his thoughts.

Steve nodded morosely, hefting his shield and his gym bag over his shoulder. Clark was going to go back to the dorms, shower, and then study for their upcoming finals, but he knew Steve. Steve would continue to train through the day, cycling through all the gym equipment and training simulations he could. He claimed it kept him focused and sharp. Clark just thought that it was too quiet in Steve’s dorm and Steve preferred not to be there if he could help it.

As Steve walked off, Bruce walked up, black hair artfully tousled and sunglasses low on the bridge of his nose. Absently, he chewed on the straw of his iced coffee monstrosity that looked to be more whipped cream than anything. “Something up with the Captain?” he asked.

“Yeah, but I’m gonna try to fix things,” Clark responded, tentatively extending one arm out.

Bruce’s nose wrinkled, but he condescended to Clark’s arm wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him close. “Ugh, you’ve been training for two hours, why aren’t you sweaty so I can complain about being snuggled up to you?”

With a laugh, Clark leaned down—Bruce was only about two inches shorter than Clark, but it made a difference when they were like this—to press a kiss to Bruce’s temple. “My body knows better than to put out an offensive smell to you,” he teased. “Besides, it’s not like we were  _ really _ training. Just talking some things out.”

“Important things?” Bruce asked, attention narrowing on Clark’s words.

Fondly, Clark soothingly rubbed his thumb in a circle on Bruce’s shoulder. His boyfriend was kind, but also kind of a busybody and gossip. He always had to know everything about everyone as soon as he possibly could. Clark knew Bruce wouldn’t tell, but Steve was clearly uncomfortable with the help Clark would be giving. Bruce knowing would only make Steve that much more scared. Everyone loved Tony, of course, but Bruce and Jan and Loki were Tony’s closest friends. If Bruce decided what Clark knew was something Tony should know, well…

He just wasn’t going to say anything about it, then.

“Not as important as you,” he said sweetly, and then laughed at the adorable pout on his boyfriend’s lips.

***

“Okay, so first things first—does he know you’re interested in him?”

Steve paced around the stools as Clark sipped at his mug of root beer, one hand up so his chin could lean on it while he followed Steve’s movements with his eyes.

“I mean—yes? I think so? How could he not?” Steve finally said.

Clark paused and put the mug back down. “You need to be really sure about this, Steve. Does he  _ know  _ you’re interested in him?”

The Irish coloring of Steve’s skin did him no favors as he blushed.

“Okay. Step one. You gotta flirt with him. Compliment him. You know, be interested in what he’s doing. Then we can move to actually asking him out.”

Steve stopped and gave Clark the most deadpan look Clark had ever seen on Steve’s face. “Oh really. Is that all.”

“If that was a question, you needed to make your voice go up at the end,” Clark muttered, holding the mug in front of his mouth.

Steve heaved a sigh and sat down on the stool. “Every time I try, all I get is his scrunched up face—you know the one, the one that just screams ‘how dare you talk to me’ and Bucky and Sam are no help.”

That was odd—ever since Bucky joined the campus, he was a little gloomy and depressing but always eager to help out Steve. Clark only filled in as Steve’s sparring partner when Bucky was busy, after all. And Sam, Sam practically hero-worshipped Steve, and certainly had his back in everything. “They’re no help?” he repeated, trying to get a feel for the situation.

Another huge, soul-crushing sigh, and Steve mumbled, “Bucky finally said that if I didn’t have the balls to ask directly, he couldn’t help me. And Sam gave up and told me I deserved to wallow.”

Well, that didn’t bode well for Clark’s chances—he didn’t know Steve half as well as those two did. As he tried to delicately ask for Steve to explain just how bad it had been with those two, Steve glanced up at Clark. “How did you flirt with Bruce?” he asked.

Well, that was an uncomfortable subject and a half. Trying to keep himself from squirming, Clark rubbed the back of his neck. “I—mentioned I thought he was really good at crime-fighting. I thought his gadgets were neat. I told him I thought he was smart. I asked him if he could give me pointers on how to work out, or exercise, or something. Give me ideas about how to be more effective in the field.”

“I’ve done all that!” Steve interjected—a little defensively.

Clark squinted at him and tried to decide whether he ought to let the lie remain or force Steve to confront it—because if he had done all that, then  _ surely _ Tony knew Clark was interested. Still, he’d be diplomatic; Steve was still trying to adjust to this time period, and that little ‘civil war’ thing hadn’t helped him in the least. “Well, then, show me.”

Steve stared flatly at Clark a long moment, then leaned back, eyes darting over the dance floor. Clearly not finding who he was looking for, he twisted to glance over the campus, eyes darting back and forth.

“No, no, not like that. Not right now. Just… pretend I’m Tony. Compliment me.”

Steve lifted one eyebrow eloquently.

After a few minutes, Clark sighed. “Alright. Okay. Let’s… okay, so I complimented him and I brought him a lot of gadgets. He likes computer stuff, like Tony. So I’d bring him stuff I found interesting and tell him that I was sure he couldn’t improve it.”

Taking a few moments to think that over, Steve began to nod. “Okay, I can try.”

***

“It’s not working. He’s just getting angrier and angrier at me.”

Clark looked up from his physics textbook, where he was trying to figure out the solution to the second problem set. He wasn’t a slouch in the sciences (even if Bruce excelled more than he did at the subject), but he also wasn’t good at following Dr. Hank’s weird leaps of logic, so he was still trying to figure out what, exactly, the question wanted him to do.

Steve’s sad face was a welcome distraction, even if Clark felt bad that his coaching wasn’t having the desired effect. Certainly, Clark might not be the most suave at flirting, but Steve really was stilted and awkward, and every gadget Clark suggested had not worked out. Of course, he really didn’t know what Tony liked—Bruce loved weird innovations on basic things. Clark loved to find odds and ends from the ‘as shown on TV’ section of the department store and bring it home for Bruce to disparage and then play around with. He’d tried five different things that had worked with Bruce, and then suggested that Steve find something Tony would like.

Pushing away the textbook, Clark leaned back in the library chair and gestured for Steve to sit down. “What happened?”

“I don’t know, I found this weird keychain that lights up and projects my shield and Tony’s gauntlet at irregular intervals, so I suggested he make a better one. He huffed and walked away, and Natasha gave me a really disappointed look. Then I took my cell-phone and said that it was pretty good, but I bet he could make one better than it. He tried to snatch it out of my hand. Finally I tried just complimenting his arm but Janet cut me off before I could say anything else and Tony looked so furious that I gave up.”

Clark frowned. Bruce hadn’t ever reacted like that with him… but, then again, that ridiculous squabble that had created a ‘team Iron Man’ and ‘team Captain America’ was only about a month or two ago. They had been working together for only about two weeks, but maybe Tony needed more time to cool off…

“Well,” Clark said slowly. “Maybe… maybe instead of going at it from the tech side, we can go at it from another side. He likes to use the treadmill a lot, and the gym. You’re always there, aren’t you?”

“He has those earm—those headphones on. All the time,” Steve sighed. “And I nearly dropped a weight on his foot the last time I tried to talk to him when he was in the gym. I  _ did _ drop a weight on his foot the time before that.”

Clark could imagine. He had nearly tripped and gone  _ through _ the wall of the gym when he’d been trying to be interesting for Bruce—as it was, he had ended up putting a sizeable dent in the concrete wall and apologizing to Tony, who had been dismayed that the upgrades to the gym had lasted barely a week before fixing was required. “Okay, well… that’s fair. But we can try something that doesn’t involve weights. And maybe we can mix the tech side in, too. You can say that one of the machines is too easy?”

After a moment of consideration, Steve nodded slowly. “The treadmill  _ could _ go a little faster, so I don’t have to run around campus for my exercise.”

“Yeah, there you go!” Clark enthused.

***

“It didn’t work.”

Clark had been in the middle of drinking a cup of milk, of all things, in the cafeteria, and Steve’s sudden words had him snorting and coughing up his drink. “Oh gosh, Steve, what happened?” he choked out.

“He got really upset and said that if I kept breaking things then maybe I should stop using his gym,” Steve moaned. Sitting down in the seat across from Clark, Steve hung his head, rubbing his hands roughly through his hair.

Thinking back over the past two weeks where Clark had been trying to coach Steve in his attempts to ask Tony out, Clark had to admit… Steve really didn’t have any game.

He needed to suggest something simplistic… something Steve couldn’t mess up with his nerves or his clumsiness when he was around someone he liked. Something that… 

“I don’t know what to do! I can’t even offer to carry his books for him like I would have before, because he doesn’t  _ have _ books to carry!”

Clark seized on that thought. “Okay, but what is he always carrying around?”

Dejectedly, Steve looked up through his linked fingers. “What?”

“He’s always drinking coffee! He’s always got one of those giant tall cups in his hands when he’s talking to Loki or Rhodes. You could bring him coffee in the morning!” The more he spoke, the more the idea seemed like a good one. Clark smiled. “You wake up earlier than him, right? So you can bring him coffee, every day!”

Steve lifted his head, hands paused against his temples. “You think so?” he said, but Clark could hear the eagerness, the excitement, in Steve’s voice.

“Yeah! Look, bring him coffee, and always bring it to him, and he’ll see that you’re interested! And you don’t have to try to flirt or say anything, just, you know, smile!” Clark enthused. “And there’s nothing to drop on his feet, and nothing to trip over. Nothing to ask of him that he can fix. Just, hand him the coffee, smile, and walk with him to wherever he’s going! What could go wrong?”

“No, now  _ something  _ will go wrong, because you said that!” Steve groaned. Still, he looked more optimistic, so Clark would take it as a win.

***

Steve sat down across from where Clark, Bruce, and Barry were sitting, working on their group project for history class.

Clark frowned. “Is it not going well?”

“I mean—I think it’s going fine?” Steve said, though he didn’t sound sure at all. “I’ve—for the last two weeks, I’ve brought him coffee, but he doesn’t look, I don’t know. I want him to be happy.”

“Gifts always make me happy,” Barry volunteered.

Both Clark and Bruce turned to glower severely at Barry—who had an on-again, off-again relationship, because he kept putting his foot in his mouth and making stupid mistakes. Quelled, Barry turned back to gluing together the diorama they were in the process of building.

Clark and Bruce turned to look at Steve, who was flushing, cheeks a splotchy red and eyes lowered. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I should’ve waited.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to come to me for help,” Bruce said loftily—and Clark watched as Steve’s shoulders tensed, jaw clenching.

“Actually, I think Steve and I can handle it,” Clark cut in hurriedly. “It’ll be easier. After all, you guys were just yelling at me for everything you say I broke.”

“You  _ did _ break it!” Barry huffed. “If you guys would just let me speed through this…”

“ _ No _ ,” Bruce snapped, but his eyes stayed on Clark and Steve. “Are you sure about this, Clark?” he asked, voice a bit softer.

And Clark knew Bruce was a good friend of Tony, that they probably should include him to make sure everything was going to work out and make Tony happy, but Steve clearly didn’t want this broadcasted around more than it already was—and Bruce, while not someone who gossiped with others, definitely shared things with Jan and Tony during their weekly shared lunch. He might be able to keep whatever Steve and Clark came up with secret, but he would be super secretive, which could tip off Tony.

“I’m sure,” Clark murmured. “Thank you, Bruce. We’ll figure it out.”

Clear relief loosened Steve’s shoulders, and he unbent enough to say, “Thank you, Bruce. Barry.”

Barry hitched a shoulder and muttered something about a bet that he wasn’t going to win anyway. Clark was curious; he knew the campus knew of Steve’s pining, but he hadn’t been aware of a bet on when Steve and Tony would get together.

But then Steve was standing up, so Clark stood up too, following him away from the dormitory’s common room to the roof balcony. “I don’t know what to do know! I need to do something else, I can’t just keep bringing him coffee. I wanted to ask him to prom, but I don’t know what to do, when everything else ended so badly.”

Clark nibbled on his lower lip, considering. Prom was a fairly big deal—and would require words. Steve hadn’t really done that well with words with Tony. They always seemed to misinterpret one another, and Steve’s nerves didn’t help that in the least.

Well, he could always go with a gift, one that  _ spelled _ out his question, or wrote it in a way that was cute.

“Okay…” Clark murmured, thinking it through carefully. “A gift, maybe. A stuffed animal, with your question stitched on the front?”

Steve walked back and forth. “It sounds cute, and it might be good… but what animal does Tony like?”

Clark opened his mouth and then paused. When it came down to it, he didn’t think he knew  _ Bruce’s _ favorite animal. Or even an animal he liked. There was bats, but that wasn’t what—that wasn’t what Bruce  _ liked _ , just what he saw as a useful tool to scare everyday criminals. Favorite animals… that was a different thing altogether.

“Well, just pick a cute one! It’s prom season. Wander through the store, find a nice stuffed animal. You can get it customized, or even find cute ones that already have the words on it,” Clark offered. “Or you can write a nice card, and give it to him.”

Nervously, Steve ran a hand through his hair before nodding decisively. “I’ll try the card first. It’s better if it’s my own words.”

Clark gave Steve a thumbs up.

***

The fiasco that was Steve’s attempt to give Tony a card was something the whole campus knew almost immediately—mostly because the people in Tony’s dormitory kept finding small pieces of the card in corners with a letter or two on it; sometimes even a whole word.

He and Steve were back in the dojo, and Steve was a bit more…  _ aggressive _ than he normally was.

“At least it was an honest mistake,” Clark said in between waves of robots coming at them.

Steve grunted.

“He could have said no, but he didn’t!” Clark put out there as the simulation came to an end.

With a growl, Steve punched the last robot hard enough to put his fist through the metal body. “He still doesn’t even  _ know _ I’m trying to ask him to the prom!”

Sighing, Clark nodded. “That  _ is _ a problem.”

“Maybe I should just… give up,” Steve said dejectedly, sitting down on the bench. “It seems as if, no matter what I try, it just gets worse.”

Clark stayed silent—there wasn’t anything he could say. He thought it was really just Steve’s nerves, and his inability to communicate on Tony’s wavelength, but that wasn’t helpful to say to him.

“Maybe this is just a sign I shouldn’t try,” Steve continued.

But that wasn’t right. Clark knew Tony was interested in Steve—they just needed to learn how to meet in the middle. Somehow. “No, Steve. No, you just need to try to play to your strengths. Try the stuffed animal. That package can’t be mistaken for a package of chemical reagent that Tony would use in chemistry class.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighed.

“Find one that clearly states prom, make sure your name is on it, and make sure Tony gets it. It’d be better to hand it to him, honestly.”

Steve looked absolutely terrified.

“Or—or leave it in his lab, or somewhere where he can find it,” Clark hastily added, since Steve was looking so scared. “But  _ be sure _ that your name is on it. Don’t let him misinterpret it.”

Steve gave a hesitant nod.

***

“Can I give up  _ now _ ?” Steve groaned.

Clark looked sympathetically down at Steve, who was splayed out like a starfish on the green of the stadium’s grass. Barry was teasing Sam and James, unfairly, but they were ignoring him pretty easily as they lapped the stadium, focused and deliberate. “Look, this is mostly because you have such a hard time talking to him. You say one thing, he takes it another way, and you manage to go a third direction with his answer. You just gotta speak to him. Maybe don’t look at him as you talk so you don’t… trip over your words.”

“So I don’t manage to insult him again. I don’t know why he thought I was making fun of him with it,” Steve grunted, and fisted his hands, muscles flexing in his arms as he lightly hit at the ground. “He  _ threw _ it at me, Clark!”

Clark made a sympathetic noise as he debated how long it would take for Sam to trip Barry up; the speedster was still clumsy and managed to trip with startling regularity for all his quick reflexes.

“The coffee worked, at least mostly,” Steve mumbled, throwing an arm over his eyes and rubbing the back of his arm over the bridge of his nose.

“Can you ask the barista to write your message in the foam?” Clark asked tentatively.

Steve froze, and then he sat up. “Maybe!” he said excitedly. “I can try that! Thank you, Clark, thank you so much!”

Clark grinned, settling back on his forearms and staring at Barry lapping Sam and James again, running backwards as he teased the other two. “I’m glad to help out, honestly.”

“Tomorrow. I’m running out of time to ask him. It’ll be prom before we know it and I don’t want like, Loki or even Brian, to ask Tony first,” Steve said, hopping to his feet and looking much more at ease.

Tomorrow. Clark would get Bruce up early, go and see. He really thought Steve needed to figure out how to speak to Tony, but writing out the message he wanted to convey was at least a step in the right direction.

***

Clark stared in abject horror.

“You have to admit, Seve just doesn’t really know how to communicate to Tony,” Bruce remarked casually, sipping at his overly-sweet, whipped cream and caramel monstrosity.

Clark put a hand over his face and moaned.

Apparently, Steve had gotten the barista to do it, but to make sure Tony would see it, he hadn’t secured the lid of the drink well because he had wanted to pop off the top, show it to Tony.

Of course, Steve was bad at communicating. So he handed the drink over to Tony and then began stuttering out what he wanted—when Tony tried to take a sip and the lid popped off, pouring (thankfully,  _ warm _ and not  _ hot _ ) coffee over his face and chest.

Then Steve had freaked out, reaching out to grab at Tony’s shoulder, and then freezing.

Tony, for his part, just looked shocked.

“See, this is why you needed to talk to me,” Bruce sighed, sipping again at his coffee.

Janet, who had been passing by, fluttered down to land beside Bruce. “What happened?” she asked, looking appalled. “Is that hot coffee?”

“No, it was cooled down. It apparently was how Steve was going to ask Tony to prom, with the foam,” Bruce volunteered, because Clark was ready to rocket into space and pretend he had no idea why Steve had come up with this latest disaster.

“Why are you two here? You’re normally not up this early. Tony has an eight a.m. class right now, but you guys don’t start until nine I thought,” Jan asked, wincing a little as Steve seemed to completely give up and, turning on his heels, ran in the opposite direction.

At that, Bruce turned to look at Clark. “That’s a good question, Janet. Why  _ are _ we here, Clark?”

“I just wanted to help Steve get a date with Tony,” Clark mumbled. “I mean, I managed to get a date with you, and you’re kinda like Tony. So I was telling him what I did, that convinced you to go on a date with me. He’s not that great at communicating, though.”

“He’s really not,” Janet sighed. “Still, at least he tries. I think you have to admit, he’s kept up at this a lot longer than I thought he would. He must be serious about it—which is a good thing.”

Clark looked up to catch Jan’s eye—because it sounded a lot like Jan had some inside information about Tony’s receptiveness to Steve, and Clark would take anything at this point—but instead saw Bruce giving him one of those patented ‘you’re a moron, but it’s adorable and you’re mine so I forgive you’ looks that he was very good at giving Clark (and those kids that followed Bruce around like ducklings, Dick and Tim and Jason). “Oh, sweetie, did you think  _ you _ are the reason I went out on a date with you?”

A beat, and then another, and then Clark cleared his throat. “I mean… I did until you just said that,” he began.

Bruce stared at him for a flat moment, as Tony stared after Steve. “You realize, of course,” Bruce said quietly, “that  _ I _ had a crush on  _ you _ and when Barry told me that Diana was going to tell you about it, I decided I would beat her to the punch? Get it out in my own way, in a controlled way?”

That… sounded like Bruce—he was fiercely competitive and he certainly wouldn’t allow anyone to steal his dramatic thunder—but that also sounded like Bruce had been entirely unaware that Clark had been flirting with him for a while.

“Okay, first, Diana knew I was trying to flirt with you,” Clark said, trying to ignore the dejected look on Tony’s face, since he was dealing with his own relationship shit right at the moment. “Second, I  _ had been trying to flirt with you _ for months.”

Bruce shrugged, a little sheepishly. “You were kind, and would say random nice things, but you also said a lot of nice things to other people. And you and I were trying to form up that team to take down Zod. I thought you were just buttering me up, honestly, to get me to agree.”

Clark suddenly had a terrible moment of understanding in regards to what Tony must have been thinking about Steve’s sudden goodwill after their fight.

“In any case, you flirt badly,” Bruce said—gently, not in a mean way at all, but firmly, as if it was a given. “I mean—telling me that you hoped I could make something better than an  _ arctic hat _ was not a compliment.”

“But you  _ did _ make something better! And you love improving things! And I knew you could do it!” Clark said defensively.

Bruce opened his mouth—and then closed it. He gave Clark a considering look for a moment and then muttered, “Huh. I did have fun doing it, you’re right. I just… didn’t see it as flirting. I saw it as you asking me to prove myself and my skills.”

Before Clark could reply to that, Jan—who Clark had  _ entirely _ forgotten was there—let out a hiss. “ _ Men _ ,” she snarled. “Never socialized well when you were children and remain unsocialized still!” She dropped down to the ground, wings shrinking, and tugged Bruce’s arm. “Let’s save Tony before he disappears into his workshop  _ again _ because he thinks Steve hates him.”

Obligingly, Bruce let himself be tugged over to where Tony was still standing, shoulders rounded and looking pathetic and sad. He gently linked Tony’s prosthetic arm with his own, and Janet did the same on the other side, and the two of them walked off, practically pulling Tony along with them.

Clark went to go see if he could find Barry. Barry could explain things a little more, since he’d threatened Bruce, and maybe with that information Clark could go and make things right with Steve.

***

“Oh, yeah man, you were not smooth at all. And Bruce—Bruce is a human, you know. You’re a superhuman.”

“An alien,” Clark muttered, sipping at his root beer.

Barry threw his hands out expressively. “An alien! Someone completely different but certainly in a whole other weight class than Bruce. And you’re always so polite and nice. He kept thinking you were insulting him but I could see that you were trying to find some common ground, because let’s be real, I’m pretty much a human too, just someone who can go fast. I don’t have your guys’s super strength or laser eyes or even my imagination—and Hal’s imagination is not that great, have you seen him? At least John is a bit more of a sideways thinker than him—anyway, so I could see that Bruce was getting disappointed and upset. So I told him that Diana was gonna tell you about his crush.”

Clark couldn’t get headaches, or colds or fevers or anything, but he was sure he could feel one beginning. “Why did you say that?” he asked.

“Because he wouldn’t go confront Diana. No one goes and confronts Diana. But he also likes to think he  _ would _ confront Diana if he wanted to, so he wouldn’t let her say something to you before him, so it pushed him into acting. And the results were good, right? You guys started dating, you guys are happy. I see you two, you’re disgustingly sweet.”

Clark pointed a finger at Barry. “You could have just told me I wasn’t going about it the right way. Then I wouldn’t be in this mess right now.  _ Steve _ wouldn’t be in this mess right now.”

Barry gnawed on his lower lip, and then shrugged. “Honestly? I thought you’d be really sad if I told you everything you did was pointless and backfired. You haven’t been on the receiving end of one of your sad faces. I didn’t want that, not at all. So I fudged a little, so what?”

“So I thought I managed to convince Bruce, not that someone else did, and I’ve been suggesting what I did to Steve!” Clark groaned in abject misery.

Barry was silent for a moment longer, and then he sucked in a breath, hissing it through his teeth. “Oooh. Ouch. Yikes.”

Yikes, indeed.

***

Clark managed to hunt down where Steve was the next day—doing his best to run himself into the ground around the stadium at a ridiculously early hour. “C’mon, Steve, take a break,” he asked, speeding a little to keep up with Steve as he ran by his side.

Steve, who was breathing like a racehorse, just ignored Clark and tried to run that much faster to outdistance Clark. Clark simply rolled his eyes and increased his own speed to match. “C’mon, Steve. It’s not that bad. We can find a way to fix this. We’ll just coach you on speaking. That’s really all that’s needed.”

Stumbling to a halt, Steve bent over, chest heaving as he tried to suck in a breath and let Clark know what he thought of that idea—but Clark  _ wasn’t _ breathing hard, so he jumped in before Steve could say anything.

“We’ll write it down, the whole speech, and we’ll practice it over and over. Like your drills. You only get better at things with practice, that’s why you’re always in the gym and here and in the dojo. If you’re bad at something you just have to try. So we’ll try, okay? I’ll make it right.”

“I… poured coffee… over his…  _ face _ ,” Steve huffed out.

“Technically,  _ he _ poured coffee over himself,” Clark tried to point out.

Steve’s eyes narrowed.

“Okay, bad thing to say, I know. But  _ still _ . It was an honest mistake, both that you made and that I made. He won’t be upset, okay? I really think he likes this, otherwise you’d be getting a lot more of an order to get lost than just him being bewildered and upset,” Clark added hurriedly.

Still red-faced and puffing, Steve started to straighten up, thrusting a finger in Clark’s direction, when there was a growing approaching whine of familiar repuslors. Almost horrified, Steve looked up to see Tony touching down. Clark was more interested in  _ how _ Tony looked—his hair was wild, and he was in a greasy tank top and sweats, with bags under his eyes and very clear nerves in his face. It looked like someone had stayed up pretty late with Tony in the lab—because, by himself, he generally went to sleep at a decent hour. It was only when he was doing science with others that he seemed to forget himself and stay up the whole night testing out experiments.

“So, um, hi, Steve,” he said.

Clark had a deja vu moment when he realized Tony was stuttering—a little like how Bruce had stuttered those months ago when he’d stopped Clark in Club A and asked him to join him for a walk around the beach.

“I was, well, I was just kinda—I’m helping Jan plan for prom! And Pepper, and Diana. I’m providing the lights and the fireworks. And stuff. And—anyway, um, prom. I was—maybe you’d like to—”

Tony’s voice was fast, words spilling over each other, but Steve didn’t seem to notice—he was staring at Tony like Tony was the sun, and when Tony trailed off, obviously just as nervous to ask as Steve had been, Steve swallowed and pulled a pair of balls out from somewhere. “Go to prom? W-with you?” Steve finished, voice cracking in the middle.

Tony didn’t seem to notice—or care. Instead, a brilliant smile lit up his face. “Yeah, that,” he said breathlessly.

“I’d—love t-to,” Steve got out with minimal fumbling.

Clark had the odd urge to start clapping.

***

“In the end, they got together, and it’s because of me.”

Bruce, in one of his devastatingly handsome tuxes—that had caused Clark to go tongue-tied and silent more than once this evening—frowned. “If Janet and I didn’t talk to Tony, he’d think that Steve was pranking him. Repeatedly.”

Clark looked over at where Steve was smiling goofily at Tony, as Tony talked animatedly, the both of them taking a break from the dance floor where many couples were already moving. “Still, if I hadn’t  _ started _ giving Steve advice, we’d never have gotten to this point.”

“If  _ Barry _ hadn’t pushed me into speaking with you, you would’ve never thought your technique was effective, so if we’re going to give credit to anyone—”

Clark dropped his head down, brushing his lips against Bruce’s, and cutting off what Bruce was going to say. “So maybe you get more credit than me. I still get some credit,” he whispered.

Cheeks flushed, Bruce looked more than a little dazed—an expression that caused Clark no end of smugness and satisfaction. “Like, five percent of the credit,” he mumbled.

“Fifty percent.”

Bruce leaned forward as the song moved into a slow ballad, resting his forehead against the dip of Clark’s neck. “Seven percent.”

“Twenty-five, at least,” Clark teased back, warmth unfurling in his chest as he watched Steve pull Tony out onto the dance floor as the lights dimmed and couples began swaying.

“Hmm. Twelve-point-five,” Bruce huffed, but his words were fond, and he pushed up just a little to bring their lips together.

“I can take that,” Clark agreed.

After all, just because he said that out loud didn’t mean he  _ had _ to agree.

(He definitely was responsible at least for fifty percent.)

**Author's Note:**

> (The [arctic hat](https://www.carolwrightgifts.com/arctic-hat/20615.cfm?clicksource=ASTV_0000) I found that made me laugh.)


End file.
